Dead Days: Season Seven (Dead Days Zombie Apocalypse Series Book 7)

by Ryan Casey

  Cody pulled Michael along and Michael pulled Cody along. Every single step was a struggle as they raced through the uneven ground. Cody swore the groans were getting closer, and he knew everything would be over soon. They were on his trail and they weren’t going to give up.

  He stopped.

  “Cody?” Michael said.

  Cody swallowed a sickly tasting lump in his throat. In his mind, he saw his wife. He saw his daughter. And then he saw Michael standing alongside his family too. A family he’d worked so hard to get back to. “You go.”

  “I can’t let you do that Cody.”

  “You have to. I’m dying.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “There’s nothing to understand. Go!”

  Cody’s shout was enough to draw the attention of the undead his way.

  He lifted the pistol and pointed it at the oncoming groans. He’d take down as many as he could. Do all he could to deal with as many as possible.

  He’d make sure Michael got back to his family.

  He’d make sure Michael got to safety.

  He’d—

  A light.

  A light split through the woods and illuminated all the undead opposite Cody.

  There were loads of them. So many of them. Just metres away.

  But it was the light that caught Cody’s attention more than anything.

  “Get down!” voices barked.

  Cody didn’t even have to think twice.

  He fell to his stomach.

  When he did, rapid fire blasted into the bodies of the undead.

  Cody listened to the fire and he felt himself smiling. Smiling, as the undead fell. He didn’t know what was happening. He didn’t know who was helping them. But he felt good because he’d made it to some people who cared. To some people who actually gave a damn.

  The gunfire stopped, and someone grabbed his arm.

  “On your feet… ah, shit. We’ve got a gunshot wound, guys!”

  Cody looked around at the people in the light. They were dressed in khaki like army uniforms. And there were lots of them. Well built men and women, fit and healthy looking.

  It’s when Cody saw where the light was coming from that he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  In the distance, there were walls. Metal walls surrounding what looked like a camp.

  Only it wasn’t just an ordinary camp.

  He could see helicopters inside it. Small aircraft.

  But most of all, Cody could see people.

  He felt himself being lifted by the troops and he stared at what he knew must be some kind of fantasy, some kind of dream.

  “I had to lie to the group we escaped from,” Michael said. “I could see they weren’t good people and I had to lie to them. I had to pretend I was someone I wasn’t. That I was just a trickster. That there was no extraction point. But I didn’t lie, Cody. I didn’t lie at all, and you kept on trusting me, no matter what.”

  Cody felt himself being lifted onto a stretcher. Michael walked by his side.

  He felt himself being walked through the gates, into the community.

  Not just an ordinary community.

  An extraction point.

  He felt a hand on his chest. He turned around and saw Michael smiling at him. He had tears in his eyes.

  “I thank you. Eternally. I’ll never be able to tell you how thankful I am for getting me back here.”

  “But you could’ve died. In the cell. You could’ve…”

  “It was a risk I had to make to keep my family safe.” He looked ahead. “Speaking of which.”

  Cody looked into the distance. He saw a woman holding a little girl in her arms. The woman had long chocolate brown hair. The little girl, dark curly hair.

  They were both running towards Michael with grins on their faces.

  “I’ll introduce you some time,” Michael said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Because you’re pretty much family now. For what you did, you’re family, Cody. Now you go get yourself stitched up, soldier.”

  Cody felt his sense of hearing muffling as the stretcher took him towards one of the little military tents to the right. He was losing his sense of taste. His sense of smell was failing him, too.

  But he didn’t need any of those.

  He didn’t need any of those because all he needed was to see.

  He looked at Michael as he ran towards his family.

  As his family ran back towards him.

  He watched Michael’s wife land in his arms.

  He watched his little girl hold on to her dad’s head, crying along with him.

  He watched them hold one another, and he couldn’t help smiling.

  He’d trusted Michael.

  Michael had trusted him.

  There was good in the world after all.

  Cody was still smiling when his vision faded, and everything went totally black.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I asked you a question, mate. What the fuck are you doing in our camp?”

  Riley looked into the eyes of the woman holding the bow and arrow. Behind her, more women like her, with their weapons poised, ready to fire. They looked tough. Like they didn’t need much prompting to fire those bows and arrows. He needed to think fast if he wanted to survive here.

  “I was brought here. By—”

  “That’s… that’s Chloë.”

  The voice came from one of the women. A younger one, probably in her mid-teens.

  The girl, with dark hair, dropped her bow and arrow and ran towards Chloë’s head on the stake.

  “Carly, don’t—”

  “It’s Chloë,” she whimpered, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stood opposite Chloë’s decapitated head. Then she looked back at Riley and Kane. Looked back with pure anger. “You killed Chloë. You fuckers killed Chloë.”

  “We didn’t—”

  The bows stretched.

  Riley looked back around at the main woman. The leader.

  She had a look of anger in her eyes, now. “Too late for talking your way out of this one,” she said.

  She pulled back the arrow further.

  “Chloë brought us here!” Riley shouted.

  He walked closer to the woman, his hands raised.

  “I said there’s no more time for—”

  “I’ve known Chloë… I knew Chloë since the first day. My name’s Riley. I don’t know if she ever mentioned me—”

  “She never mentioned you.”

  “Okay, okay. But you have to understand that I’m not the one you should be pointing that arrow at here.”

  “You’ve got five seconds to explain yourselves before we make you bleed from places you didn’t even know you had.”

  “Chloë brought me here,” Riley said, spitting out the first words that came to mind. “She brought me here because she wanted to get Kesha—Baby Kesha—somewhere safe. She tried going to a place we used to live at, the MLZ, but it was already gone. So she found us. She found us and told us you’d keep her safe. That you’d protect Kesha. Until she grew up.”

  The bows were still pointing at Riley and Kane. They hadn’t been released. Yet.

  “Someone came here just after we arrived. A man called Mattius. I had a run in with his group. I… Fuck, I did some bad things. I killed his people. Slaughtered them.”

  “You’re hardly advertising yourself right now.”

  “I’m not trying to. But please. It’s Kesha I care about. I don’t know if Chloë told you but… but Kesha’s special. Her blood. She can cure the infection.”

  A few baffled glances. A few whispers.

  “But Mattius has Kesha now. And I’m pretty certain he doesn’t have the best future planned for her. ’Cause it isn’t about farming her for blood. It’s about a little girl. A little girl who we need to raise, but a little girl we need to protect not just for everyone’s future, but for her own.”

  Riley got down onto his knees then. He pointed at Chloë and Jordanna’s stakes.

  “
Mattius did this. He did this and he took Kesha away. So fuck knows what he’ll do to Kesha.”

  Silence. Total silence.

  “I’m not asking you to trust me,” Riley said. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t trust anyone myself. Not anymore.” He looked back up at the woman. “I’m just asking you to save Kesha’s life. Please. Because—because she’s family. Chloë and Jordanna were family.”

  The woman looked into Riley’s eyes a little longer.

  And then she lowered the bow and arrow.

  Gestured for the rest of her people to do the same.

  She walked slowly over to Riley. Crouched down right opposite him.

  “If Chloë is your family, then you are our family too.”

  She turned to Kane.

  ”What about him?”

  Riley looked at Kane as he sat there. His hand was bleeding badly. He had a grimace on his face. “Do what you want with him. I think he could help us. But that’s your call.”

  “Thinking about it, he looks familiar,” she said. “Saw him stalking our place a few months back. Tried to kill one of our girls. Wouldn’t want that happening again now, would we?”

  The woman nodded, and someone stepped behind Kane and dragged him to his feet.

  “Sort his hand out. I’ll figure out whether to burn the rest of him while he screams.”

  Another of the women pulled Kane’s hand out.

  Then another of them pressed the flaming end of her burning torch under it.

  Kane’s eyes widened. He let out a high-pitched wail. He struggled from side to side. Kicked and screamed.

  And as he protested, Riley couldn’t feel any pity for him. Not after he’d nearly killed Chloë. Not after the monster he’d turned that poor kid called Spud into.

  “He saved my life,” Riley said. “He didn’t have to, but he did. That’s… that’s something worth considering.”

  Kane looked into Riley’s eyes, and as he stared at him in total agony, Riley swore he saw him smile.

  “Take him away from here,” the main woman said, wafting her hand in Kane’s direction like he was an annoying fly.

  Two of the women kicked Kane’s thighs. The third one lowered the flame, which had turned Kane’s hand into a charred crisp, and booted him in the back as they dragged him along, away towards the tents.

  “As for us,” the woman said.

  Riley looked at her. He looked at her people. And then he looked at the heads of Chloë and Jordanna. He felt pain all over his body just by glancing at them. Pain he needed to fight. Pain he needed to resolve.

  “My name’s Amy,” she said. “And these are my people. They don’t have cocks, which means they give the orders, and you serve. Understand?”

  Riley nodded. “Whatever you say.”

  Amy pulled her bow and arrow out. “Do you know how to use one of these things?”

  “I might’ve used one on a work’s do once.”

  “Then you don’t. But you’ll learn.”

  She held out the bow and arrow to Riley.

  “Chloë was our family, for a short time. So too was Kesha. She went away, far away, but we always hoped to see her again. Always hoped she’d return.” She looked over at Chloë’s body and head, which two of her people were taking away at last. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened to her. I’m angry for what happened to her. Do you know what that means, Riley?”

  Kane let out a pitiful squeal from inside the tent. Amy held out a hand to Riley.

  “I think I do,” Riley said.

  “We stand together. We fight back against this Mattius. We get Kesha back, and we get her safe. We get our revenge. Are you ready?”

  Riley watched as Jordanna’s and Chloë’s remains got taken away. He looked at them for one final time, and then he nodded. “I’m going to kill Mattius. I’m going to torture him and make him suffer in ways he can’t even comprehend. And when he finally feels like he can’t be put through any more pain, I’m going to gut the fucker and make him squeal like a pig for what he did.”

  Amy nodded. “Then you’re ready.”

  She looked at her people.

  “Are you ready?”

  All of them nodded. All of them said “yes,” and cheered in agreement. All of them united with Amy, with Riley, with Chloë and Jordanna and Kesha.

  It was time to get Kesha back.

  It was time to take the fight to Mattius.

  It was time to get revenge.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alison always checked the news, just in case.

  It was September, so the transition from the not-so-chilly Australian winter into summer was still tricky to get used to. The nights were definitely getting warmer. She’d caught a few spiders in the house—big ones—which was a sure sign that the seasons were changing.

  She sat on her leather sofa and looked around her living room. She looked at the television. More inane drivel. Nothing of note on the news. Talk of economics, of business, of the world getting back to how it used to be.

  Except Alison knew the world would never get back to how it used to be. Not with what was happening in Europe.

  She brushed her blonde hair back and felt the warm breeze blow in through the open window. She could hear the crickets singing in a way that discomforted her more than it relaxed her. The smells were good, though. The smells of barbecue season making its start. Soon, families would be gathered in each other’s gardens, enjoying one another’s company. Acting like the world was all okay again.

  But it wasn’t.

  It really wasn’t.

  Around a year ago, Britain had fallen. So too had other European countries. A virus completely ravaged a continent.

  Some of the countries had bounced back. Governments had been installed. Fail-safes had been put in place. But the fact still stood: millions of lives across the globe had been lost.

  And Britain was still a lost cause.

  Alison tapped away on her iPad. She scrolled through Facebook. She saw news of births. Of deaths. But mostly of fickle frustrations like forgetting car keys or such-and-such-a-body cheating on what’s-his-face. All of it inane. All of it, irrelevant.

  All of it making her long for more.

  She thought about those poor people in Britain. The ones who’d been trapped there by whatever that virus was. She didn’t know what it did exactly, only that it was horrible enough for the governments not even to want to go there and help. They didn’t want to risk any cross contamination or spreading it outside of Britain’s borders. Britain was cut off. It thought the rest of the world was dead—if anyone was even still alive in Britain to think that by now, which was surely unlikely.

  She clicked on Google. Scrolled through some of the survivor accounts of the virus. The survivors being from mainland European countries, of course. Nobody had survived in Britain. Not that anyone knew of.

  The survivor tales were strange. Bizarre. There were tales of cannibalism by some. Others said it turned people into flesh-eating monsters while others were vaguer, suggesting the virus killed people in an instant.

  Whatever it was, it’d been deadly enough to bring several mainland European countries to their knees.

  Whatever it was, it’d been deadly enough to close Britain’s borders. To cut it off from the world.

  To leave it to die.

  Something just didn’t seem right.

  “Alison? You coming to bed?”

  Alison heard Stuart’s voice and her stomach sank. “Yeah. I’ll be right up.”

  She started to walk away from the living room when the news report caught her eye.

  It stopped her. Froze her right in her tracks. Made her jaw drop.

  The news was from Britain.

  “Breaking news. We’re getting reports that the first-known survivors from Britain have just landed at a remote location in the Atlantic.”

  Alison nearly fell to the ground.

  “It is believed that a secret government extraction base had been set up in the
country for months, only the survivors who made it there have been subject to stringent tests to make sure they aren’t carrying any of the virus back into society with them.”

  The news flicked to an expert opinion then. A man with round glasses sitting cross-legged in the studio.

  “Damon Watts. What do you think this means for Britain?”

  “I think it’s important to stay composed about all this,” he said, struggling to contain a smile of his own. “Obviously it’s great because it means there are survivors in Britain. If the first people have been extracted, then there has to be more, which means more people to save. And it would seem these survivors aren’t carrying a trace of the virus, either. But we have to beware, of course. We have to be careful.”

  “Would you describe this as a turning point in the fight against the virus?”

  “Oh, absolutely. This is a turning point. The world’s never going to be the same again.”

  “You wanna turn that down?” Stuart called. “Riley Junior’ll never sleep through that racket.”

  But Alison didn’t turn the television down.

  She didn’t turn it down because as she stood there and stared at the television, she couldn’t help wondering.

  She reached into her pocket. Pulled out her phone. She’d still kept all the photos they took. Photos from better times. Photos of them smiling, enjoying each other’s company.

  And she couldn’t help asking the question. She couldn’t help speculating what life would’ve been like if he’d fought for her. She couldn’t help being curious about where they’d both be right now. Whether she’d still be here, in Australia. Whether they’d both be in England together, facing… well, facing whatever fate the citizens of England faced right now.

  As she stopped at the photograph of them together on Blackpool Pier, his arms around her, both of them clinging on to disintegrating candy floss and laughing as they were drenched in the rain, she couldn’t help asking the major questions.

  If people were getting out of England, then did that mean there were more survivors?

  If people were getting extracted from England, then could that mean the father of her child was alive?

  Could that mean Riley, the man she’d never stopped loving, the father of her son, was still alive?